


Scales

by grayorca15, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Detroit: Become Dragon [1]
Category: Castle Rock (TV), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Drama, Gen, Humor, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-01 02:05:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18790813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca15/pseuds/grayorca15, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: AU/Crossover/Crack. Someone at CyberLife likedGame Of Thronesway too much.Pity that someone was an AI.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Crack. Plain and simple. Season eight may not be finished as of posting this, but... we want our dragons back, dammit. :’c Keep your Starbucks.
> 
> #whocares

As the world’s first trillion dollar company, CyberLife effectively did whatever it pleased with gross impunity. Sure, it had shareholders and investors and regular working joes that made up its greater workforce. The majority of its assembly plants and databases were automated affairs, overseen by a host of different artificial intelligences. Quality assurance operated on a number of levels, across several buildings on Belle-Isle, ensuring nothing put together amiss ever saw the light of day.

Then some wires from opposite ends of the island were crossed.

Intentionally or no, it left the corporate board very much wondering how much of their automated processes should remain just that - automatic.

——- 

Systems booting up with a reassuring _fwoom_ of white noise, the (former?) RK800 knew something had happened even before the spelled-out text cleared his vision. He didn’t need to read what it said to realize one glaring inconsistency. Last he powered down, he had been standing upright.

Now he was lying down, chin against the floor, arms outstretched to either side, fingers splayed.

That wasn’t right.

Neither was the curve of his spine, the disproportionate gap between his cranium to his torso, the orientation of his pelvis, how his feet were somehow flat against the floor… or the weirdest feeling yet, a web-lined tail curled into a corner of the bay.

That hadn’t been there before. 

Then he looked twice at his systems’ readouts, once the company logo made way for them. They looked entirely too okay with themselves to believe this was all correct.

  _MODEL WYV100_

_SERIAL#: 313 248 317 -71_

_BIOS 108 REVISION 004_

  _TRANSFER COMPLETE_

_LOADING OS…_

_SYSTEM INITIALIZATION…_

_CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… OK_

_INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… OK_

_INITIALIZING AI… OK_

_MEMORY STATUS_

_OK_  

_READY_

——-

Whatever behavioral subroutines had been installed with this model, it didn’t help the motor controls needed adjusting to. They didn’t respond with all the finesse and dexterity of the human hand.

Hence why the first thing Connor managed to do upon waking up was catch his face in the rafters above the storage bay. Sitting up, putting his weight on (what he thought were) his palms on the floor, he promptly miscalculated. The floor dropped away far too fast, and by the time he thought to stop moving, a loud _clang_ and shuddering impact through his head said it was a second too late.

Twisting to see what he had hit, he heard another _clang_ and a metallic screech, right next to his ear. Unable to help a flinch, he turned the other way to try and look. 

Snagging a horn in the overarching supports of the ceiling, he pulled too hard and felt a distinct _snap_ rattle his plating. 

Belatedly, he saw the fragments and resin-like flakes of fresh-broken plastic fall from the corner of his eye. He couldn’t ignore how, instead of a few feet, they tumbled a distance down to the floor that was five times the distance it used to be.

Fantastic. Less than a minute in this new, unintended body and he was already making a mess of it.

 ——-

Out of all the worries Nick had when they would be brought back to CyberLife, this happening was definitely not one of them. 

Being separated from Dennis and Connor, yes, that terrified him. Waking up alone was always scary, those moments where he wasn't sure where he was, wondering if he would be brought back with the two other RK800s or their programmers finally made the call, severing all ties between them within and without. 

Drooling all over himself uncontrollably? That wasn't something he usually thought of happening. Or not being able to reach up and wipe it away. Somehow his face was way up in the air, but he was still sitting down, hands down on the ground… 

Was he sitting like a dog? Or some other animal? 

Rearing back again, it was very evident that this wasn't in his human form, that was for sure. Trying to swipe a hand up, Nick found that, oh no - there was no comparative arms on whatever frame he had. Just back legs, or something like that.

What type of frame was he in? Were Dennis and Connor having the same sort of… issue?

 And what was the weight folded up on his back? Flexing it experimentally, Nick started when something went out, giving a single flap before it went back. Without anything to stop himself as well, he continued to drool, no way to try and contain it.

This wasn't normal, that's for sure.

Trying to look back at just what was on him, Nick let out a squeak when his whole body decided to turn as well.

But from what he had seen/could see, this was way different from anything he had expected. His neck didn't protest when his head started to turn further around to try and look again, ambling in an unsightly half circle so he just barely kept missing.

It didn't help that his total inability to stop drooling was starting to mess with his balance as well, every now and then trying to shake his head to get it off best he could, causing him to stutter to one side, before continuing the shuffle.

What was going _on?_ This had to be a mistake, being put in some - some giant, ungainly reptile body, definitely not a humanoid frame, and to think he didn't like it before -

 Distracted by his whirlwind of thoughts, Nick apparently misstepped where he should put his left (hind?) leg, instead landing right on another swishing appendenge - since when did he have a tail? Balance thrown off, he couldn't help when he fell dramatically to his side, letting out something that sounded suspiciously closer to an untested roar than the cry he was going for.

Landing hard on his side, Nick looked around at his flailing legs - scaly and clawed, which was as startling as it was also expected. The thing on his back rippled again, finally revealing itself to be what it was.

A wing, stretching out over his field of vision, before snapping back to his side.

…Now what exactly was a giant lizard that had wings and roared? And apparently couldn't stop drooling, even when the situation didn't warrant it at all - seriously, what was up with that, his face was going to be coated with it!

How did he end up in the body of a _dragon?_  

Deciding that, finally, it was time to reach out over the commlink - hopefully that still worked, because if it didn't, this was really gonna change from confusion to panic - Nick reached out, still struggling to get back upright, legs kicking out and wings occasionally opening and closing.

_H-hey, are either of you -_

Before he could finish, an explosion sounded off, most likely from the room next over from his own, a deep booming sound that seemed to be followed by another roar. 

…Well. There was the answer he was looking for, wasn't it?

It was kind of reassuring.

 He wasn’t the only one in this predicament.

——-

The first gout of fire roiled and fizzled out against the concrete wall. All that was left behind was a sizable burnt-black splotch. Off to the side of it, movement stirred.

Whisps of smoke still curling into his eyes, Dennis couldn’t hold back a frustrated snarl.

 To think the puny fireproof suit the tech wore was enough to protect them from his newfound weaponry - what good was breathing fire if he couldn’t _kill_ the first target he tried it on? 

Staggering to their feet, silver foil suit aglow with orange embers, the tech made a stumbling run for the exit.

Hunkered over like a jaguar about to pounce, Dennis snorted, feeling sparks fly from his nose. The tingling feeling it left behind coiled in the top of his nasal cavity. Simultaneously the time-to-fire gauge in the right side of his HUD began to spool up again. 

He checked the impulse until the door was shut, wheeling around to take long, sweeping looks about the bay he found himself confined to. The ceiling stood not ten feet over his head. Claws scraping the concrete floor, he paused long enough to study the metal-and-glass skylights, the support beams standing between him and open space.

Hatching a plan, he drew a deep breath.

Those definitely weren’t fireproof.

 ——-

After unceremoniously breaking off a piece of his new self, Connor did the first logical thing to come to mind.

Freeze in place.

With only the tiniest of moves, he let his eyes rove one way, then the other, then back. Pivoting his neck just enough, he could see the splintered pieces of horn flying on the floor beside his wrist. Weird as it felt to pose with his arms bowed out around himself, weight balanced on a padded thumbclaw to either side, there was no danger of over balancing, standing like this. This body wasn’t the wiry, pliable, two-legged frame he was so accustomed to. It was serpentine and stocky, moving like a grounded bat on four paws, with a host of postures that would feel alien to any human on a good day.

Fortunate thing he wasn’t human, in a way. His software was effectively adaptable. He could adjust, given enough time to compute. 

The subroutine that enabled him to enter report mode was still flagged as enabled. He could give that a try. Amanda would know what to do about this.

The attempted connection was rudely interrupted by another muffled roar from behind a few walls of insulating concrete. The noise alone was enough to make him curl his lips, baring fang-like teeth in annoyance at a distraction he couldn’t even see.

A moment later, the tremendous crash of metal and glass being obliterated rang out.

Stranger yet, no alarms went off.

——- 

The ceiling wasn’t exactly made to withstand a few thousand tones of android dragon standing on it.

Somehow, his ‘rescuer’ had managed. Using a combination of fire to weaken the structure, then bash it in with the blunt side of one furled wing, it was surgical enough the building itself didn’t crumble under the weight.

Not so nice was the shower of embers and glass that rained down.

Half on his side, still attempting to lift himself from his fallen position, Nick let out a gurgle of fear, even if he knew who that was, really. It was still scary to see a dragon (even if he himself was one as well, now) do such an aggressive act, and then have to deal with being pelted with jagged chunks of glass.

Finally rolling up with some more urgency at the glass and embers, Nick shuffled himself back into one of the corners of the room, half to let Dennis drop down if he was going to, and half to escape the rain of embers and other carnage.

With a sizable hole punched through the rafters, the still-smoking, narrow-nosed face snaked its way down inside. Lined with ridges of horns and spikes, it looked next to nothing like friendly or approachable. Scanning around the room, it’s blue, slit-pupiled optics narrowed at spotting him. The hissing snarl dropped from its mouth. 

The incongruous LED above and behind its right eye, inlaid between the glossy scales, shifted from red to yellow. 

_Nick?_

Creeping a few steps forward, wobbly balancing on his wings as well, best he could, Nick nodded at him, cringing just a bit when he felt more drool begin to start up, no way to wipe it away at the present moment. Trickles of it seeped from the downturned corners of his mouth.

  _Yeah, it's… it's me. What's going on, Dennis? Why did they do this to us?_  

Seeming to contemplate it for only the barest amount, Dennis gave a very low, guttural growl. The rippling spines lining his neck, mantling fins of orange-red creating a kind of crest, quivered and flared like the hackles of a cat. _Because they could, leaving our debug to that sketchy AI. All to save a little money and time. What other reason ever appeals more to them than that?_

 _I guess so… but you - destroyed part of this place, Dennis, they're not gonna be happy._ At that sudden thought, he shrank back into the corner best he could, trying to huddle in and make himself small - which was pretty much laughable, at whatever massive size they were now, compared to before. _Not happy one bit._

_That makes all of us, then. C’mon, we need to get going._

Get going? Where? It wasn't like they knew how to really maneuver in these bodies - at least, Nick didn't. And it was just too risky, leaving so suddenly after just barely waking up like this. Who knew what would happen to them? They couldn't easily make an escape, and they would be totally recognisable in these bodies. No, they couldn't go. 

 _No, no, we can't do that!_ Settling down onto the ground, wings half folded over him, Nick shook his head at the idea, anxious already from just the idea. _No, don't do that, I don't - I'm not leaving._

 _You stay here, they will only decommission you. Whatever stunt the grid AI pulled, I’ll be damned if we’re gonna sit here and wait to pay for it._ Hot air wafted down on the back of his neck, presumably as Dennis leaned closer. A moment later, something coarse and sharp nipped at the nearest dorsal spine it could reach. _Get up, now._  

Rearing up, Nick tried to turn his face around with a whine to look at Dennis, but could only move so far until he was stopped by his head. He couldn't be serious, could he? The best option for him was to stay, not leave, and Dennis wouldn't do this, he couldn't, not just drag him out of here. 

 _Hey - let go! No, no, I'm not - this isn't a good idea, stop!_ Trying to jerk away from the grip, Nick succeeded in some minute success of a small loosening, but nothing else.

He lost the ground he gained a millisecond later. 

Letting go, Dennis gave a flustered-sounding warble before repositioning, twisting to grab his counterpart right behind the skull. Spines snagged between his teeth, tips dug into leathery gray skin, he bit hard enough to get a solid grip.

 _I’ll_ drag _you outta here if I have to. Up!_

Illustrating the point, he snorted like a bull about to charge, and pulled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning curves are a bitch.
> 
> Like life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever notice they skipped this part in the show...?

The garden was locked - just the same as the three doors leading to this bay. Not that he could exactly use any of the latter exits, not in this oversized form, but it was an unintended taunt all the same. There wasn’t even a hangar door to eventually accommodate letting a finished WYV100 leave once activated.

Connor was still pondering the absurdity that destroying the ceiling  _ was _ the intended way out when Dennis beat him to it. A crimson-crested shadow fell over the skylights before he heard a loud, raspy inhale.

Acting on reflex, he stuck his head under one winged arm to avoid the inferno that blew down from above. The reinforced plates along his shoulders and back took the terrible wash of heat with no trouble. The air of the bay abruptly filled with the acrid smell of smoke, burnt metal and melted glass.

Once the jet of flame tapered off he dared to peek over his elbow.

Framed by a broken gap of smashed-through roof, a pair of gray reptilian faces glared back at him. Triangular snouts adorned with ridges of short, recurved horns above and below the eyes, trailing off into two distinct crowns of horns. One set of eyes were clear, crystalline blue, belonging to the unit with the still-smoking mouth, while the other’s were a rich forest green, lighter at the edges.

Their necks trailed off into stocky, hunched-over bodies, framed on either side by folded wings passing as front legs. Rippling like grass in the wind were a series of webbed crests along each’s spine - auburn red in the former, emerald green in the latter.

With what limited scanning software this form possessed, Connor identified both by color scheme as much as name and serial number.

Besides that, they smelled ‘familiar’.

And his comm system was being pinged with transmission requests. He answered both in one discontented growl:

_ You, too, huh? _

_ What’s - happened to us, Connor?  _ Immediately answering the question with his own question, Nick stuck his nose a bit through the hole, letting out a huff as he did so.  _ What's going on? Dennis won't let me go!  _

Go.

As in, what, stay? Were they really supposed to just wait, all docile-like, to be given new instructions?

This wasn’t exactly the sort of thing human personnel had any control over. Yes, they could conduct exams, push buttons, and generally confer with the company’s artificial intelligences to achieve whatever result they saw fit.

In terms of fixing this situation as quickly as it had arisen - only one AI could do that, and if it hadn’t self-destructed the moment it hit the button, parsed it’s own code into a hapless mess of fragments, it had the second after it made sure to disable all alarms.

Because how else could Dennis break them out and there still weren’t any security airships dopplering onto the scene?

Lips curling in another would-be growl, Connor shook his head.  _ You’d rather stay here? _

Nodding as best he could, Nick let out another huff, somehow sounding more panicked than he had with the first.  _ We can't leave! We - we can't even get out of here, everyone's going to be mad at us for what we've already done, we could get - shut down!  _

_ Which is why we need to leave. Now. We can’t let them have their chance. _ Brushing a wing against his for emphasis, Dennis wheeled around for a look at their immediate surroundings.  _ I can already see the security convoy gearing up from here. We need to go, quickly. _

Ignoring the fact there may just be remotely-triggered activation codes in their future anyway, Connor paused only to snuff a flaming piece of debris on the floor beside his thumb.

_ I don’t suppose either of you read the flight manual yet? _

Almost in answer to his question, a wailing klaxon went up in the distance, announcing their presence and the threat they posed all in one dreadful noise.

How positively retro for a company in modern 2038.

——-

Around the same time he ended up biting him to get the message across, Dennis supposed he wasn’t his partners’ favorite person in the world. Thankfully Connor didn’t need the same encouragement Nick did to climb up and out of the storage bay.

But the latter, half frozen with indecisive fear, Nick needed yet another incentive to be prompted to move.

He already stood close enough to the edge of the roof, with the riverfront roiling just below. One shove was all it should take. The wind was up, the skies clear and just starting to fade from dusk into proper evening colors. Off to the west Dennis could see the running lights of aircraft and SUVs turning on, one by one by one.

They only had so long to try and get airborne.

_ Nick, move. Those wings aren’t for show. You need to figure out how they work, fast. _

_ No, no, I can't, I don't know how, I - I can't do that!  _ Shaking his head, at the command, Nick tried to stumble back from the edge, but was held in place by the fear of falling one way or the other.  _ Stop it, stop, we can't do this, I can't fly!  _

Tempting as it was to bite him again (disregarding how strange that impulse even felt, yet how naturally it seemed to occur), Dennis refrained.

With a sighing hiss, he shuffled over, making room for Connor to fall in beside them, then crawled forward, gripping the edge with both thumb claws.  _ It’s fly or die. Which of those sounds better to you? _

_ No, I don't - I don't wanna die, but none of us even knows how to fly!  _ Letting out something as close to a whine as it could be with a dragon’s feral voicebox, Nick shook his head again, but reluctantly made to huddle next to Dennis.  _ This isn't going to work, we can't - do this, we dunno how!  _

_ It doesn’t mean you can’t learn. Watch. _

Demonstrating his point, when he probably would have liked nothing better than to shove them over and leave, Connor went for the sharp corner of the roof. The walls beneath their feet shuddered and wavered with the change in weight.

Taking one sweeping look at the ground, then along his new limbs, he gave one experimental stretch, fingers fanning out to reveal the blue-gray folds of synthetic skin between. The evening sun behind them momentarily brought out the thirium veins riddled within.

_ Yes, yes, very flattering. _ Sitting back on his hind feet, trying to affect the same pose, Dennis unfolded his own, only to accidentally clock both partners to either side of him. Their takeoff position was a touch too crowded.

LED flashing red, Connor spared a hiss, neck crests mantling with agitation, and lashed his tail. Less than ten minutes in that frame, and he already seemed to know just how to communicate annoyance.

Quick study was the only way to do this, after all.

_ We can’t fly for you, Nick. You have to try. _

Taking another look down and across the water underneath them, and then back at the CyberLife reinforcements that were clearly coming for them, Nick hunched further down on his own spot, but didn't shake his head no, at least.  _ Okay, okay, but we don't - this isn't going to end well, we don't know what we're doing.  _

_ The routines are there. Just concentrate. The aerolite tech, it’s the same as what’s used in animatronic avians. _

Multitasking even as he explained, Connor stood, wings outstretched to either side, poised to leap. Leaning out over the edge, eyes forward, he kept himself from falling with one flap. Repeating the move, claws still dug into the roof, he turned his head to look at the sound of approaching helicopter rotors.

Processors running, Dennis didn’t wait. Wings out, he took one leap and flapped.

Three clumsy, unpracticed wingbeats later, the worst he suffered was dipping his tail in the river. The design of this body that wasn’t so suited to ambling about on the ground suddenly felt all the more tailor-made for the air. His systems knew what to do, even if his processors didn’t. They would eventually sync up.

_ Down and up. That’s all it takes. On repeat. _

 

Dropping one wing, he made a wide, banking turn, and headed for the formation of choppers swooping their way.

_ Keep trying. I’ll practice my maneuvers with these guys. _

Wind rushing past his nose, igniters primed, he drew another deep breath.

——-

Watching Dennis fly off toward the approaching helicopters, perhaps that was supposed to be some kind of reassuring, to see he could do that. 

But again, that was Dennis - he seemed to understand what he was doing in such a new body the best. Who's to say Nick wouldn't crash if he tried? Or he might not even be able to lift himself off of the ground, or any other number of bad things could happen. It was way too risky for him to try. 

Hobbled by those frightened thoughts, Nick attempted to back up a bit again, clumsily trying to keep his balance with just his two feet. His wings flapped out once on their own accord, trying to help with his balance, before he forced them back to his side. 

Taking a look at Connor, still not having taken off yet, he shook his head again.  _ No, no, I can't - no, I can't do this, I can't, I really can't.  _

Crests bristling, Connor settled down long enough to turn, take one baleful look at him, then crawl forward to close the gap between them.

His new eyes were the same bright, vivacious shade of walnut, but set in that ugly, snarling, spike-covered face, he only looked more critical than ever.

_ What’ll convince you you can, then? Because we have perhaps thirty more seconds before you don’t have any more time to try. _

_ Then - then you go, I dunno!  _ Shaking his head once again, Nick tried to step back more, only succeeding in stumbling to one side, wings going out again to balance himself. As much as he was still scared of flying, they did seem to give him good balance, and feel more level.  _ I - I can't, I can't try.  _

_ I’ll rephrase that: you’re giving me too easy an excuse to ditch you. Move. _ Shaking off his denials yet again, Connor circled around between him and the caved-in roof, stopping only to snap at his hip in an improvised get-going gesture.  _ Honestly. You can’t look any more foolish in this body than you did in the last. _

Startling forward at the almost-bite, leg hiked up, Nick found himself on the edge of the roof again, holding onto the edge of it as best he could, the same way Dennis had. Taking a look back at Connor, he almost started speaking again, half-upset at the spiteful words, before something new(er) caught his eye.

One of his partner’s horns was shorter than the other, splintered and jagged - like it had been snapped off. 

Had Connor… already broken one of his horns? 

At that, Nick let out a huff of what was supposed to be laughter, but closer to some kind of stilted growl. His wings took a few experimental flaps on their own, relaxing enough so that they wouldn't immediately snap back to his sides again out of blind fear.

His intercomm voice carried the amusement far better.

_ Connor, your… pfft. That's - nevermind, okay. I'm going, I'm going.  _

_ What? _ Effectively left hanging as to what was so amusing, his once-critic laid off on the insults. The coiling growl dropped from his face, crests perking up like the ears of an inquisitive dog.  _ Just like that, you’re game all of a sudden? _

_ Nothing, don't - worry about it.  _ Shaking his head to try and get rid of the drool he knew was coating the lower half of his face, Nick took one last look at Connor, and the broken horn, before snorting with some more laughter and turning back. Wings fully out, he tensed up a bit, ready to jump and try and follow Dennis, best he could.  _ It's - pfft, don't worry. Are we going now?  _

Were he capable of it, stomping on his tail to prevent takeoff was probably what Connor would have liked to do.

Instead, he took it as an opportunity to sigh in aggravation and bite him in the back of the leg.

_ Oh, for - Quit stalling. Get going! _

Counterpointing his order, a column of red-hot flame struck one of the helicopters. Blades set alight, the aircraft abruptly pitched and rolled over in midair before blossoming into a fireball, strewing flaming debris across the road below.

Dennis winged his way through the smoking cloud it left behind, angling toward the remaining three still headed their way.

_ Anytime, you two! _

Deciding to just go for it - because what else could he do by this point, keep stalling? Nick didn't want to be left behind, and it was becoming clear that there wasn't going to be any way out of this situation, other than what Dennis had in mind.

Taking one last look over the water, Nick took in his own deep breath, before letting go of the side and taking a lunging leap. His wings began to flap, lopsided and almost panicky, before settling out after a few sloping beats and gradually gaining altitude. 

Preoccupied as he was, Dennis veered around to obliterate the lead helicopter before it could reach them, screeching and continuing to pour flame on the wreckage as it fell from the air. The fireball didn’t erupt until it hit the ground.

That was certainly a dramatic way to take out frustrations with one’s maker.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If getting turned into a dragon doesn’t induce deviancy, nothing will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finale was underwhelming.
> 
> Complaining over.

For all their extravagant features, the WYV model itself wasn’t so different from every other android chassis CyberLife had ever made. They had been subjected to the usual quality assurance checks, prior to activation. Hundreds of moving parts had to be inspected, routines checked and double-checked against standard response rosters, programs screened for obvious anomalies that may otherwise interfere with smooth, bug-free operation.

By the time the sixth gunship hit the river, just after sunset, Connor supposed most of his field testing came back just the same as it had fresh off the assembly line. Mindful to keep the pursuit over non populated areas, he had spent the better part of an hour honing newfound flight skills by way of dodging as many bullets as he could.

He was almost impressed with how many he managed to avoid, considering the fact the helicopters were unmanned. Burning a seventh midstream, fooling it into overshooting him in the same fashion he had taken out the others, the only disappointment he felt was in the egregious amount of garbage their battle left behind in the river.

Not as though he had had any ulterior choice. Nothing was trickier to avoid than a gun that could think for itself.

At the first ping of coordinates being forwarded, he veered away, using the cloud cover above - bolstered by the smoke of the attack - to mask his departure.

Drawn to the crackling fires, not one stray patrol boat on the river glanced his way.

——-

Detroit was a thriving metropolis, despite the recent economic flux. Most of its residential neighborhoods were reaping the benefits of restoration projects. New highway extensions were spreading by the day.

Amidst all the urban sprawl, there were always once-thriving industrial regions left to rust and rot. To the northeast, just south of the limits of Warren, was one such compound. A few burgeoning automobile makers had tried to cement a foothold there. Their few meager factories stood vacant since their closure eight years prior, overlooking an otherwise-picture perfect neighborhood on the slopes below.

Circling high enough above as to go unseen by the naked eye, thankful for the cloud cover that had rolled in thirty minutes after breaking out of the island, Dennis spotted just what he hoped to find: one big chunk of missing wall, spanning two floors, leading down into the recessed below. Short of finding an undeveloped tract of forest to shelter in, a decommissioned auto plant was the next best place they might hide themselves.

Trailing behind him, close enough he was still visible, Nick flew behind Dennis, attempting to make a mid-air stop to see what he was looking at, swerving to one side dramatically before righting himself for a hover.  _ What is it? Do you see something?  _

Oh, lots. Once one got over the jitters of being so high up in the sky, there was nothing but expanse to be see.

For the moment, Dennis kept to a small circling maneuver, twisting his head this way and that to keep the old factory in sight. With optics dialed in, he could pick out its details even from a few miles removed, semi-lost in the clouds.

But it was the only safe place to assess from.

_ There, on the ridge. That compound with the ten-story structure. It’s a disused Fernelius plant. _

It wasn’t all awful. Saginaw-based SUV outfitter Fernelius may have gone under less than a decade after its inception, but in terms of leaving them a custom fit hiding place, it was lucky they were ever a business, once upon a time.

Narrowing his eyes at the building, Nick huffed as he spotted it as well, almost sounding like he was considering it. He flew a bit closer, still trying to hover once he stopped.  _ We're gonna stay there? It doesn't look bad… _

It was very different from what they were used to, but the situation was drastically different from what it had been. Human frames could easily fit in the station. Dragon-sized frames, not so much. 

_ Until we regroup and think of a contingency plan, I have no better ideas.  _ Dennis shifted his attention to the rows of houses. Tracks of them interlaced with well-maintained streets suggested a middle to low class demographic. Most of those same families, probably once employed at the vacated factory, had stuck around to find work in other surrounding venues.

He checked the time on his HUD. It was just after sunset on a Thursday. It was fair to think most citizens down below weren’t quite asleep by now. This high up, the thumping beats of their wings couldn’t be heard.

The moment either of them tried to descend - the jig would be up.

_ I don’t see any more gunships back there, to the south. But we need to hide somewhere before more are sent. _

Because that was the nice thing about unmanned aircraft - no sleepy pilots to roll out of bed.

_ Okay. I agree, it's probably the best we can do for now…  _ Taking another look around, Nick creeped a bit closer, shaking his head to clear it of any drool that continued to coat the bottom half of his face as he did so.  _ Time to tell Connor, then?  _

_ I’ve already sent him the coordinates. You saw how…  _ busy _ he was when we left. _

Another semi-nice factor when it came to dealing with unmanned guns - fewer qualms in destroying them.

Eyes narrowed against the wind, Dennis spun over, pulled his wings in, and dove.

_ Now let’s see if we can’t knock a door into the roof without bringing the whole thing down. _

Or waking the neighbors.

——-

They had ridiculously early bedtimes here. Charlie wasn't exactly a light sleeper, but he wasn't heavy, either. And somehow, he had ended up in the one foster home where everyone else slept hard. 

That was the only way he could explain being the only one to jolt awake, anyways. 

It had been a deep crashing sound, ringing off into an otherwise quiet, normal night, one unlike any other he had experienced since being placed with Molly and Jackie. There was never any noises like that which would be common by now, which meant that something must be up. 

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, head cocked to the side, Charlie sat up, trying to listen for anything else. After a moment, his patience was rewarded with another, quieter sound, like the other. It was definitely something outside, something loud, yet distant, crashing into one of the old factories? 

But what would that even be? He had explored some of those buildings before, with Joey, and occasionally Trevor. There never seemed to be anything that big that could make that noise. 

Making a snap decision, Charlie slipped out of his bed, walking over to the other on the left of him, crouching down slightly in front of the sleeping form.

Taking one glance over at the third bed in the room, even further off on the other side of his own bed, Charlie didn't even bother thinking about it, instead just gently shaking Joey's shoulder. 

No reason to bring Trevor into this, and wake him up as well. He wouldn't want to leave, this late at night, and something that could be considered unsettling. 

_ We have school tomorrow, _ would be his most likely counterargument.

Gag.

But Joey was always game for some late night adventuring. 

——-

Strafing Belle-Isle, and then the Detroit River, had only attracted so much attention. CyberLife’s headquarters had become a microcosm unto itself in the past decade. Civilian visitors were few and far between in the daytime, nevermind the smallest hours of the morning. Aircraft of any sort typically took a wide berth around the mid river island’s shores as to not encroach on the privatized airspace. The same went for watercraft.

Tempting as it was to turn west, see what more of the nighttime city he could from this aerial vantage point, he turned toward the coordinates instead. It was only minutes away, and he may have even less time to land and hide before another contingent of security flew after him. Mindful to keep his altitude, the prevailing winds let him glide the majority of the distance.

That was handy - the fewer loud wingbeats, the better.

Immediate danger out of the way, he ran as many system checks as were available. Besides some cosmetic damage and a depleted reservoir of flammable substances, the body itself was none the worse for wear. Half a dozen foreign projectiles - bullets - had found a home in the space directly beneath his left shoulder, but the bleeding had already clotted to a stop.

And thankfully the pyrotechnic jet he was equipped with was directional enough he didn’t inadvertently blow himself up.

One would think CyberLife could look into alternative biofluids when it came to building a fully-functional dragon.

Descending below the clouds, he saw just what he hoped not to: a trail of smoke emanating from the ten-story-high remains of a decommissioned auto plant. The wind stole any attempt at a scoff he made, wings pulled in, then stooping into an abrupt dive.

_ Knock the roof in - subtle means of creating a door for yourself, Dennis. _

——-

Most of the plant’s inner machinery had been confined to the ground-level floors. Those above were primarily for storage, meeting rooms, vacated offices and the like. Upon smashing through the highest ceiling, Dennis went to work on a kind of improvised renovation job. Shoveling and pushing most of the debris aside, breaking windows as it spilled out into the air to fall and smash on the ground, he started with one small room.

And it didn’t remain small for long. Several felled walls later, it had been widened into a sizable pit.

Shaking broken plaster out of his eyes, he stopped only to cough on the dust being raised.

He paused again at hearing a deep  _ thud _ from overhead, followed by a dripping kind of sizzling, like water dropped on a boiling skillet. The math abruptly added up.

_ You know… this might be going faster if you were to spit some of that acid here and there. Have you looked at what it’s doing to the flooring? _

More dripping fell for a moment, as if Nick was shaking his head with confusion at what Dennis was saying, before a shuffling noise as he wandered closer.  _ I… didn't know that's what it was. Acid? How isn't it hurting us, though? It's been on me all night…  _

_ Correction - you’ve been  _ leaking _ it all night. Whatever software transfer we’ve been subjected to, it had to have some side effect. _ Using a thumb claw to sweep a few fifty pound concrete rocks aside, Dennis spared a moment to sit up and peer through the hole above his head. No sooner than he did a smoldering trickle of acid drip over the edge, spattering harmlessly on the resin-like plating of his nose.  _ Whatever your frame’s original intent, it seems like CyberLife also took inspiration from venom-spitting animals. _

Because a flying, fire-breathing animatronic with a forty-foot wingspan wasn’t impressive enough on its own.

_ Oh… I guess I can try to help out with it.  _ Sounding dubious of the ability at best, Nick let out a quiet choking noise that was evidently him letting more of the acidic drool dribble onto the floor than he had before. Immediately, the ground began to sizzle again, already beginning to melt from whatever properties the acid had that was causing it. Between that, and Dennis continuing to clear out the rubble, they would be making great progress in no time. 

On a whim, Dennis watched as a small puddle of it formed. Running the probabilities, he leaned over to sniff at the substance. His sensors spat back a quick summation of its molecular properties.

Drawing in the tiniest of breaths his lungs could store, he tried spitting only the barest of flames into the pitted spot.

Lighting up with a blinding snap, the very air above it went off like a flash bang, cracking off the brick walls around them. A second later, the echoing  _ bang _ hit them right in the ears.

_ Fucking ow! _ Winding away from the explosive result, Dennis reached up to climb back onto the roof.  _ Okay, stupid idea of mine, but now we know. _

Reeling back from the sound and the light, Nick let out a distressed hiss at it, shaking his face as he did so, scaling backwards to not let any more of the acid drip somewhere near Dennis.  _ Don't - do that again, jeez! It's acid, Dennis…  _

_ Well, I had to see if the two had any kind of chemistry. Sue me. _ Baring his teeth, snorting a puff of smoke for effect, he coiled his wings around himself, watching as the momentary fireball fizzled into nothingness.  _ It’s hardly the biggest bang we made tonight. You saw how many helicopters I torched. _

And it was equal parts bewildering and glorious. Causing such an extent of damage, and not a single human being harmed for it, almost made up for the hapless QA tech who had the misfortune to be near-roasted by him.

Then again, maybe he simply hadn’t turned up the heat enough with that first blow.

_ I know, I know…  _ Still cringing back a bit from the now fizzled fireball, Nick let out another huff at Dennis and his reasoning for why he did it.  _ But that was - justified. Don't blow this place up yet, especially if it's where we're staying for… awhile.  _

_ Do you have any better plans?  _ Leaving that question to sink in, Dennis took another evaluating look at his new self. Humanoid necks were nowhere near this flexible, but in this form he could look back over his own shoulders with no trouble at all. With every passing minute every new posture he adopted felt less awkward and more in-tune.

But it still begged for an answer to the biggest question each of them had: how on Earth had they gotten here?

As yet, no one could answer.

_ …Didn’t think so. At least your optics are finally the same color now. _

… _ Really?  _ As if he was attempting to look for himself, Nick shuffled around in a circle, almost looking dangerously close to falling. The ground around him started to smoke with the acid, almost beginning to bear down with the weakened structure and his weight on it, before he scrambled away after realizing what was happening.  _ That's… different. And no, I don't have a better idea, not right now. Which is why I said - please, don't burn this place down. _

_ Well, I know I shouldn’t, now, given that you seem like you can’t stop salivating. _ Affecting as much of a grimace as his limited expression would allow, Dennis crawled back down to the cleared-out floor below. The acid leeching through from above had already cored a new weak spot in the rotting wood.  _ Put a plug in it. That’s enough for now. _

Hunkering after Dennis best he could, taking up what free space was left behind, Nick tried his own hand at a pitiful glare, not seeming to be able to stop himself from the acid continually leaking down.  _ I - I'm trying, it's not that easy. It doesn't wanna stop.  _

_ So tilt your head back, keep your mouth shut. It isn’t as if you’ll suffocate on it. _

Perhaps not.

But WYVs didn’t have very articulate lips capable of holding a tight seal.

Narrowing his eyes at him, Nick lifted his head without a protest, except for his silent disgruntled look toward him. The soft sizzling noises abruptly cut off, no longer splashing down onto the floor. 

Going equally still and quiet, except for the residual crackle of flames and crumbling mortar, Dennis let a half minute of wordless quiet pass before drawing the inevitable conclusion.

_ It’s still pooling in your mouth, isn’t it? _

Their luck one of them would be transferred to a model with bad valves.

Worse than that, their luck this kind of haphazard transfer would happen at all. So much for thinking they were hardwired into humanoid frames exclusively. As CyberLife would have it, their prototype RK800s were as malleable as clay.

Or perhaps right now it only seemed that way - an unhappy accident of epic proportions.

Curious.

_ There has to be a command prompt to disable it somewhere in the OP file. Search for it. _

_ You don't think I have?  _ Grumbling through the commlink, Nick tilted his head down with defeat, letting a wash of the acid out of his mouth and onto the floor, immediately beginning to burn another hole right through the floorboards as he did so. Immediately, he tipped his head up again, setting up what would most likely become a cycle.  _ I dunno. It doesn't wanna stop - ever.  _

Crests pulling flat against his neck, Dennis wrinkled his nose at the sour, percolating smell of burnt wood and propane-infused bile.  _ I don’t even need to knock the next floor in, then. You’ll dissolve it away, given enough time. _

Glaring at him again, Nick shook his head, even as a hole began to open up beside him.  _ I can't help it! Plus, didn't you say to help you? I'm - I'm helping speed it along.  _

_ Yes, but if you can’t stop…  _ Letting the thought hang unfinished, Dennis turned his attention to shoveling aside another broken mound of drywall and stone. Most of it spilled out the ready-made gap that was a broken window.  _ We’ll figure something out. Now scoot over and start sweeping. It’s too crowded in here. _

Once a few more floors had been excavated, hopefully, that would change, leaving enough different levels to traverse. Connor could start at the top and find his way down.

In theory, at least. And if the coordinates weren’t specific enough, the smoke signal now emitting from the structure would be.

How many towers around southeastern Michigan were burning at this hour?

——-

“Joey, look.” 

Pointing at the building, high on the ridge above the burb, Charlie half-squinted in the dark, looking at the thin tendrils of smoke curling off of its highest floor. The building looked vaguely destroyed on top, not having looked like that before. 

At least Joey had immediately agreed to go out and investigate, when he heard that something was up. As yet, he was still yawning every few steps, trying and failing to shake off the deep sleep he had once been mired in.

At the vaguest suggestion of smoke against the cloudy night sky, he promptly scoffed, stopped in the middle of the alley, and rubbed at his eyes, instead of looking. “At what? More nothing?”

“Well, if you would actually  _ look, _ you could see it!” Pointing at it again with more urgency, Charlie grumbled as it disappeared. There was something there, it was even the right direction for where he heard it. No way he was risking getting caught out of the house for nothing. 

Squinting as if he had suddenly become nearsighted, Joey took one last swipe at his eyes before craning his head back. Bedraggled, unbrushed red hair adorning his head, he looked just like a surly old bear roused from hibernation.

And just as grumbly to boot.

“Define ‘it’, dude. Because it still looks a lot like Cousin Nothing from here.”

“There was smoke, Joey,” Getting more frustrated at the lack of anything else, after the promise the noises gave him, Charlie stomped his feet on the ground and crossed his arms. “And that building - it looks more broken. What if something fell in there?” 

Joey shook his head, smoothing bangs out of his eyes, wincing against the draft of the alley. “The old auto plant? Shit’s gotta be falling apart left and right inside. That boom you heard might’ve been a floor caving in, is all.”

“No, I don't - it couldn't have been that.” Even as he continued to argue with him, Charlie deflated against the logic. It really could have just been the floor giving way, couldn't it have? Maybe he just happened to be a really light sleeper tonight. “It was like a big boom, like something fell in there, not the floor caving.” 

Remaining unconvinced, Joey scowled, cramming his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. At a brisk 40° it really wasn’t the hour to be trekking around outside. “I don’t hear any air raid sirens, man. Unless WWIII is actually on and no one told us, you might wanna get your ears checked. Molly was telling us how you listen to your earbuds too loud.”

“I do  _ not.  _ If you don't wanna look, fine - go back. I wanna see what it is.” Which was definitely a reckless thing for him to do. Molly would be way more upset knowing one of them left, rather than a group. All they had done to prepare was put on hoodies, hats, and boots, besides their sleepwear. With cheap flip phones in hand, it wasn’t as if they would be cut off in the case of an emergency.

Joey promptly called him out on it: “Good luck getting past the barbed wire. You know that place is off-limits. I agreed to go with to look, not catch a case of tetanus.”

True. The signs on the fence declared as much. The plant was no more meant to be visited than a graveyard during Halloween.

“...Fine.” There was no way they could really go in and expect to not have some sort of consequence, Joey was right about that. It was just frustrating, to be close but know he wasn't allowed to go look and see just what it was. 

At least not at night. 

There was always tomorrow.

——-

Minimizing the number of wingbeats as best he could, Connor tried to remember - and imitate as best he could - how birds approached the act of landing. His first takeoff had been nothing to brag about. Failing to achieve any initial lift, he had made a foolish start of clearing his way into the air. It more resembled a duck making a running takeoff across the surface of the river than a proper launch.

Landing was bound to be just as clumsy an affair.

Swooping down at a steep angle, he miscalculated his speed and trajectory - arresting it with one sharp flare of his wings to put the brakes on. Claws raised, he caught the edge of the roof and practically slammed to a jolting stop atop the roof, wingfolds billowing around him like broken-down ship sails.

The giant cloud of soot and dust raised by the impact promptly clogged up his nose and eyes. With a flustered snarl he tried to reach up and wipe it away, forgetting he no longer had a proper hand to do this with.

His thumbclaw scored the brittle, cracked scales above his left eye. Hearing the delicate crackle of plastic resin going to pieces, he went still, unable to quench a building growl of disbelief.

It was worth a little to-himself ranting.

_ Great. Ouch. Breaking even more body parts, everywhere I go with this - mistake of an excuse for a - body. _

Forcing a huff that might have been a loud  _ fwoosh _ of a sneeze, he tried to rub his his eyes with a curled-over wrist. He may as well have tried to dial a phone with oven mitts on. It did nothing to get the grit out.

Half cutting in through the commlink, Nick sounded half bemused, and half troubled by whatever was going on where he was.  _ Are you - here, Connor? I think I heard you.  _

What, didn’t he hear the racket overhead? And if he did, who else could it be?

Tabling his aggravations for the moment, growl trailing off into a whine, Connor winced, blinking against the debris lodged into his optic. An approximation of a human tear duct would come in most handy right about now.

Naturally the WYV frame didn’t boast the same feature.

_ My GPS indicates I’m right above you. _

At the moment, it was more legible than the half-obscured visual input he was receiving.

_ …Can you get down here, or?  _ Seeming to answer his own question, there was a shuffling noise, as if Nick was attempting to reach his floor somehow.  _ Do you need help?  _

The latter question harder to answer than the former, somehow.

Lips peeled back in a soundless growl, crests bristling, Connor resisted any temptation to paw his face. The broken bits of scale would only wedge themselves deeper under his eyelid if he tried. Gingerly, he tried to open, close, then reopen the optic shutters in one snappy motion.

Inwardly, he tried to remain calm, unaffected, and sound it at the same time.

_ I’m fine. Just - need a moment. _

_ Are you sure? You don't sound fine. What did you do?  _ The sound of something, or someone more likely, dragging themselves up to his level sounded off, if only to take a look. 

Almost stumbling over one ungainly wing, he turned away from the open gap in the roof.  _ Nothing. The gunships managed to - lodge a few bullets in me, that’s all. _ A half-truth was better than a complete lie.

It did nothing to dissuade his would-be critic. Scales rasping on concrete, he heard rather than saw his counterpart stick their nose out for a look.

_ It’s okay. I wasn’t followed. _

_ …Anything else?  _ Sounding unconvinced, Nick let out a huff of confusion at the odd, evasive behavior coming from him.  _ Is something wrong?  _

They had woken up as dragons.

A better question would be what wasn’t wrong?

Blinking again, unable to help a frustrated sigh at his hidden predicament, Connor tried rubbing at his afflicted eye. The burning under the lower eyelid only grew more intense.

_ I… I snapped another piece off. _

He might as well cough up the confession. It wasn’t as though he could bumble around half blinded forever.

_ …Oh.  _ Letting out another huff, this one sounding decidedly more humorous, Nick seemingly climbed up to the floor, making his way over to his semi-disabled partner’s side.  _ Where? Is it… in your eye?  _

Backed against his given corner of the roof, Connor reopened his eyes, trying and failing to ignore the scratching of flakes against the glass of an optic. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but between the sensation and the new heat building up behind it, the feeling was none too pleasant.

Tossing his head like a disgruntled horse, spines rippling, he couldn’t stifle a miserable whine. Even as the upper eyelid folded back, the lower portion remained stuck, caught on the debris.

_ I sloughed off a few more - scales. One of them is - stuck, underneath the eyelid. I tried prying it out, only - CyberLife didn’t equip these bodies with - optical lubrication ducts. _

Demonstrating his point, he tried rubbing his face against his scaly forearm. The burning only intensified.

Dennis, evidently listening to their chatter the whole time, pointed out the obvious in the next breath:  _ What should we do, then, cauterize it? _

_ No, Dennis! We're not - blinding Connor!  _ Immediately opposed to the idea, Nick sounded half horrified, and rightfully half exasperated, that he brought it up at all.  _ There must be some way we can get it out. Because that's not happening.  _

_ Ideas, then? We don’t have hands anymore. _ Dennis retorted, putting to words what they all were probably rueing the most about this predicament.  _ The next most prehensile part is, what, your tongue? _

Connor instantly stopped fussing over his afflicted eye, crests going flat against his neck.

Well.

Absurd as it sounded, what was even more unbelievable was the amount of sense it made. Standing still and taking stock of what tools still remained at their disposal, there was that.

Just had to get past all the fangs first.

——-

_ Quit - dribbling all over me, honestly! _

_ I can't stop it, Connor! I'm trying to help, stop complaining. It can't hurt you anyways! _

_ It’s not that it hurts, it’s - ugh, no. Bad sensation. …Stop. No. Get - get that thing away from me! _

_ Calm down, you can't just keep that scale stuck in there! It'll - it'll be over faster if you stop moving, just let me try…  _

_ Enough. This isn’t going to - eh, mind the incisors! Those can scratch just as bad as anything else. …You smell like an ashtray. _

_ You - you don't smell any better! I'm not going to scratch you, please, just sit still, I can get it out. When you move it's too tricky.  _

_ …Ugh. You have no conception of how strange this feels right now. None. _

_ No, and I also don't know what it feels like to have a scale stuck under my eyelid. You could either deal with that for awhile, or this for a couple minutes! Sit. Still.  _

_ Says the Master of Fidgets. _

_ …Whatever. I'm not the one who has to sit still, you do. So, please, just stop.  _

_ Stopping. …Trying to stop. …Failing to - ow! …Was that it? _

Dennis sincerely hoped so.

Otherwise the next wall he knocked down, he might have asked his partners to place their heads on the floor where it would land.

——-

Taking another surveying look over Connor's face, Nick let out a sound as close to a sigh as he could make it. Sure, it probably wasn't any sort of fun for him, getting licked across the eyeball, but it was better than leaving the plastic scale impacted underneath his eyelid. 

And there was also the bullets to consider - hadn't he said a couple were buried in him right now? And then the broken horn… 

It didn't add up to be a fun night for Connor, that was for sure. 

But at least the scale fragment had been taken care of, shortly after their argument winded down. As long as he sat still for a second, it didn't take too many tries to fish it out.

_ All done. You're good for now, Connor.  _

“Hmph.” Approximating a sound of gruff dismissal as best he could, Connor blinked with exaggerated caution, sipping away the spittle left behind on his cheek with the back of his wrist.  _ I’ll forgive you the fact you didn’t have any more precise or - sanitary instruments to work with. _

_ You're welcome, at least. It was that or have it stay there.  _ Sure, maybe it would have come out on its own eventually, but this sure was the faster way. All he had to deal with was some acid drool, and even that couldn't hurt him. 

The pitted-in floor going all pockmarked under their claws was another story.

Eyes narrowing, Connor wisely sidled away from it toward the expansive gap left on one side.  _ I’ll try not to give you reason to repeat the procedure anytime soon. _

His bullet-peppered skin didn’t exactly bare that out. White scrapes were left where rounds had ricocheted off the gray scales. Tears were evident along the folds of his wings. Staying behind to cover their escape had cost a little more than this latest indignity.

_ Sure. Just don't - break anything again, anytime soon.  _ Following after him, Nick gave Connor one last once-over, before giving that up. Not like they had any way to get the bullets out by now - unfortunately, it would just have to stay the way it was. Without any human to help, none of them had the dexterity to get them out. 

Dennis would probably suggest some morbid fix like chewing the afflicted area until they fell out. But that was per his twisted-up logic centers. Between breaking out and setting fire to the island, bulldozing his way around the interior of the old factory had to have calmed those violent urges.

To a degree.

Two floors down from the roof, they found him tearing through an old archive room. With the shelves knocked aside, lining the walls in unkempt, broken piles, he had set to demolishing the steel cabinets.

Drawers spilling yellowed folders and paper onto the floor, he slammed a knuckle down atop one such hapless victim. It promptly folded up like an accordion.

_ You two done playing Doctor? _

_ It's out now, yes.  _ Taking a sweeping look around the room, Nick hunched down where he was, watching the floor below him begin to steam up a bit, from the splashes of acid.  _ Are we - sleeping soon? This place is almost cleared out… it's been too long. _

It had been a tiring few hours. Even if sunrise itself was still five hours away, they would do well to settle in to wait, and come up with another leg of a contingency plan. Going into stasis for a time to recollect lost energy would be vital if they found themselves needing to run a second time.

Complaints and fussing aside, Connor did look the most haggard for the experience. At the suggestion of sleep he seemed to perk up, glancing around as if seeking out a suitable spot.

Dennis bunted the flattened cabinet aside and went for another.  _ Rest if you want. I’m not done wrecking shit. _

_ Hrm. Even after dealing with those helicopters, and the other floors?  _ Narrowing his eyes at him, Nick didn't argue past that. If Dennis wanted to wreck more stuff, he would. There was nothing they could say to stop that.  _ Okay. I wanna sleep.  _

_ So sleep. Shut your ears off. I won’t keep you awake at that rate. _

Connor sighed, loose papers fluttering away at the force of it.  _ You need to recharge, too, Dennis. Even if you don’t feel like it now, I’d recommend you don’t overtire. _

_ You can always clear the room more out later… but you won't have any energy if you don't sleep, soon. It's been really tiring, all this.  _

Sparing them a prolonged glance, Dennis might have considered debating further. Who knew if he could read the signs of fatigue for what they were? They were made to recognize it in our humanoid models, not… whatever class a WYV could be called.

Instead of snapping the next drawer in two between his teeth, he set it aside.

_ Yeah, well, I guess the sooner we rest up, the sooner we can figure out how this even happened. _

Nodding his head in appreciation, Nick attempted to lower himself to the floor, to try and find just how it was they were expected to sleep in such frames. Sure, in human frames, they could charge standing up, but that didn't feel nearly as natural in this one.  _ Thanks. Yes, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can decide what to do next.  _

Seconding the notion without saying as much, Dennis made an example of himself - flopping onto the floor in a graceless heap, before tucking his winged arms around himself. That settled, he wrapped his neck and tail back against his shoulder and hip. Covered in spikes and sharp edges, he almost managed to make it look comfortable.

Then he spared a second to gloat:

_ Figure out how to engage sleep mode - done. _

Connor only sighed again, taking a slower approach to adopting the same pose, one limb after another. His chosen place, against the pile of overturned shelves, left just enough open floor between their shoulders.  _ Very amusing, Dennis. _

Flopping into position where he was between them, some imitation of his partners, Nick shut his eyes most of the way, just in slits for him to sleepily survey the room and it’s other occupants.  _ …What if the floor gives out when we're sleeping? Or, I guess since its lower level maybe that wouldn't happen… would we be heavy enough to do that, all of us? How much do we weigh? How can we fly, for that matter? _

At that, Connor and Dennis seemed unanimously tired of listening to him, going by the almost-identical sighs they gave. The air temperature was just cold enough, clouds of steam rose from their mouths, like boilers cooling off. Blue and brown eyes - recognizable if not for the dialated oval-shaped pupils - reopened to halfheartedly glare at him.

_ Questions can wait until tomorrow, Nick. Sleep, remember? _

_ Okay, sorry, I'm just wondering… what about tomorrow, though? What if we’re found? What if the floor melts away around me -  _ Cutting himself off from any more anxious rambling, Nick shut his eyes, trying to make some attempt to sleep.  _ Okay. I'll sleep now.  _

Powering down various interlinked systems, some random-access line of code had to disable the valves, didn’t it?

If it didn’t, they would know as soon as one of them fell through to the next floor.


End file.
